Thursday, August 30, 2012

Labor Day weekend is here. Can you believe it? The summer has flown by and I have this mean desire to watch Dirty Dancing. The movie takes me back years, to an innocent time, and I just want to sit and remember. My family vacation wasn't like Baby's family though. We live in the mountains similar to the ones Baby visited, so we... Well, it went more like this.

Four-thirty a.m. Once a year, my parents' alarm clock would buzz with special meaning. Any other morning, if my parents were up especially early, my sister and I would roll over and go back to sleep. After all it was summer and after a months of sleeping in, it is what we were use to doing.

But, this day was special, it was the first weekend of August, and we would shoot from our beds as if they were on fire. We would scramble to use the bathroom before our three brothers were shaken from their beds by dad. Afterwards, we’d rip into the outfits we meticulously chosen the night before, grab our packed suitcases and head to the car. The sky’s center was always as black as the well in the hollow. One star always dangled on the canvas, however, and sky’s lower edge burned with the rising sun.

Within the hour, my two uncles and aunts, and my twelve cousins filled the two cars who met us at the edge of the drive. We, the older cousins, had worked at odd jobs all summer and saved in anticipation of spending our earnings anyway we wanted. I always came home with a ceramic horse. Remember Roy Rodger's horse Trigger. He was mine.

My parents never made reservations and somehow we always found rooms. So while dad and my uncles went inside the hotel (anyone remember the Mayflower-it was our first choice) and acquire rooms for all twenty-three of us, we’d sit in the car. Our necks grew damp as the morning sun rose, glaring off the car's hood. French fries, candy cotton and fish wafted in the air. The buzz of the big city, the roar of the ocean beyond the boardwalk , the call of “Watch the Tramcar, please” made our legs twitch. After a three hour ride, we wanted out and get on with our vacation.

Three days is what we had to enjoy another world. A world where hundreds of Miss

Americas had strolled the boardwalk. Where a white stallion dove into a swimming pool.

Three days is all it took to etch into my memory the feel of the hot sand as we hopped toward the cool foam of the waves, and the laughter shared as we romped in the ocean and Uncle Lee lost his teeth, and the way my blood rushed searching for my little lost cousin George among the crowd of thousands. To this day, the Coppertone Baby signifies a carefree summer for me and the scent from the lotion speeds me back to the innocent time. Also, to this day, I haven’t found ice cream sandwiches as good as the ones we devoured on the AC beach. You know. The sandwiches laced with sea salt and sand.

I think I’ll go poolside this weekend, as much as I can, and crack the lotion bottle. Maybe have an ice cream sandwich.

I’d love to hear one of your summer vacation memories over the Labor Day weekend.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

It all started Labor Day weekend. It was so peaceful in the cool, green mountains of northeast Pennsylvania. Well, as peaceful as it could be with two kids who didn't want to be camping with their mom.

Then it happened.

Greed.

Lies.

Murder!

It didn't take me long to realize who I was dealing with.

Needless to say that I was scared out of my mind. Look at me. Where was I to hide from the Russian Mafia?

Then John came into our lives. He was working the case. Together, I knew we had a chance.

Yes, some say we shouldn't have fallen in love. FBI agents don't do that. Right? (ROLLING EYES) The heart knows what it wants.

The weeks the kids, John and I spent on the run are ones we'll never forget and neither will you. HIS WITNESS TO EVIL is FREE as a Amazon download Thursday & Friday (Aug. 16 & 17)

Please spread the word. What I learned teaming up with the FBI might help you one day.

And while you're at Amazon, check out my new release SEIZED BY DARKNESS. Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, August 10, 2012

I love reading romantic suspense and if you’re reading this, it’s a given you do too. Awesome! We’re kindred spirits.

Want to know why I love writing romantic suspense? Yes, because I love to read the genre, silly, but seriously, I love writing romantic suspense because of the research. When an idea comes to me, I can’t wait to start to digging into a topic and finding the most intriguing facts. Sometimes data or comments by industry professionals lead me to other fascinating subjects. At times, the story idea I started out to write about is left by the wayside because my research has uncovered a more interesting subject. (Imagine a wicked laugh and me wringing my hands together here —BAWAWA)

In my March release, HIS WITNESS TO EVIL, (available at Amazon) the idea came from an occurrence at my work. I worked as a corp. secretary, who wore many hats, for a mid-size trucking company. No. The company name remains undisclosed for obvious reasons. I knew tractor-trailers were heisted. I had to deal with the law enforcement officers in a few states and insurance companies. I also knew the U.S. treasury transported U.S. currency by tractor-trailers, well because… Not saying more. I started to think what if units carrying currency were targeted. Hmmm I my muse took over.

Now, since I worked within the transportation industry, the research for that facet of the book was at my fingertips. But when I thought about who would be targeting the tractor-trailers and how they would know which of the many vehicles to heist, I started researching the U.S. Treasury, organized crime and law enforcement jurisdictions. From my research came an idea, but of course I had to check the scenario out to see if it was plausible. Enter the FBI. I interviewed a director of the agency and learned not only was my idea plausible but had indeed, in part, occurred. BINGO!

You really want to know what the FBI confirmed, don’t you? Well you’ll have read His Witness To Evil. It’s available on Amazon http://amzn.to/McROob .
Mr. FBI man really was nice and was kind enough to share some of his personal and family life with me. I think talking to him, helped me develop a great heroin John Dolton. In fact, a reviewer for RT stated: John Dolton is the best character; his background and the sorrow he lives with make a good subplot. Readers will wish they were the ones offering him a shoulder to cry on.

You can see why I love research. One note before I share an excerpt of HIS WITNESS TO EVIL. The wide-world web has made it so easy to find answers to almost anything. I’ll caution you however, to double check your research findings with several different sources, because, as you know, you can’t believe everything you read on the net.

Now, HIS WITNESS TO EVIL by Autumn Jordon

Suddenly, a hand slapped across her mouth and a strong arm circled her waist, lifting her off her feet. Her nostrils flared against the ridge of skin as she fought to suck in air and the scent of the man dragging her away.
A car whizzed by but didn’t stop. The street ahead was deserted except for two elderly women waiting for a bus and a couple standing on the corner. They had their backs to her. They didn’t see her.
She searched wildly for anyone who would come to her rescue. There was no one.
The street disappeared and red brick imprisoned her and her attacker on both sides as the man carried her deeper into the deserted alley. Foul smelling dumpsters, broken crates and cardboard boxes limp from the downpour on Saturday night filled the alley.
While her toes fought to touch the ground, her fingernails dug into tan skin. She struggled helplessly to free herself.
“Owww. Will you stop clawing me?” The deep tone heated her ear.
“John,” she mumbled against his hand. She twisted and strained to look back. Relief washed through her.
“Quiet.” He deposited her into a deep doorway.
Her purse slipped from her shoulder and dropped to the ground as she spun on her heel. Without thought, she flung her arms around his neck. His hard chest crushed her breasts. “I was so scared. I didn’t want to leave you and Zohara. I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Me too,” he whispered into her ear.
She pulled back. His smile was faint, but it was there. Her hands trailed down his arms and found the bandage. “Your arm.”
“It’s nothing. A cut.”
“I shouldn’t have left you and—”
“You did the right thing, Steph. Where are the kids?”
“They’re safe.”
He looked at her warily, probably wondering where she could hide them and feel safe about doing so.
She squared her shoulders. “No one saw us. I wasn’t going to bring them until I knew it was safe. Whoever is looking for us could spot us faster if we were together, so I left them at the library with Susan. No one will look for them there. And if something happens to me…” Stephanie swallowed hard, fear rippling through her. “Well, Susan knows my mother. She’d call her.”
At the sound of a door opening, John glanced around the doorway’s edge. He pushed her into the corner, shielding her with his body.
With her nose pressed against his chest, she drew in a mixture of his musk scent and blood.
The sound of someone throwing trash into the dumpster mingled with the throb of her heart. Protected by John, she closed her eyes and waited.
“Damn,” he said.
Stephanie’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, damn?”
“Shh.” John’s hands found her hips and pulled her even closer—hip to hip. The butt of his gun poked her ribs. No protective vests shielded her from the feel of him.
His burning gaze told her of his plan only a moment before his lips, full and hot, crushed hers.
His hands trailed down her backside, lifting her against his hard body. She ran her hands up his strong arms. The world reeled away, leaving her and John alone, enjoying the warm comfort of each other as their bodies molded together.
“Hey! Hey, buddy. What are you doing there?” A man called from a short distance.
John pulled back. Instantly the air between them cooled and Stephanie shivered, wanting more of him.
“Calm down, Mac. The lady and I are on a coffee break. Right, babe?”
Dazed, her gaze locked with his. She knew what he wanted from her.
“Miss?” The stocky man wearing a bloody butcher’s apron glanced at her purse before his hard glare landed on John. The man’s burly arms hosted clamped fists and his stance changed. He was ready to pounce on John at her word.
“Leave us alone. We’ve only got ten minutes.” Stephanie slowly laced her arms around John’s neck and flashed a wicked smile at the man. She went up on her toes and buried her face in John’s neck and nibbled away, enjoying the salty taste of him.

Perfect Reunion Romance

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Welcome to my blog. Each week I share my life, or writing tips, or my work. At times, I have wonderful guests stop by.
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Want to learn more about my works or me? Hop over to my website. www.autumnjordon.com